I just realized I forgot to include the standard disclaimer: I don't own X-Men Evo or it's related entities. I'm a bored geek, not a rich comics magnate. In this next chapter, we see what happens when the lights go down and Rogue goes sleepy-time. Italics indicate thought, but you probably did the math there. There are references here to "A Streetcar Named Desire", by Tennessee Williams, and I don't own that either. I'm not sure who owns the patent on the "Smarties" candy, but it's still not me. I apologize also for any… I dunno… glitches in my formating, I'm still getting' used to it.
Rogue had had some quality nightmares in her time, but this one was unbelievably bad. It was a standard high school dream, being in a play but not knowing her lines. The lights were harsh and bright, but she was freezing in a thin slip. She squinted out into the audience, but it looked like the front row was empty. She shivered, looking around the stage for something to keep her warmer and make her feel less exposed.
"No, no no no NO!" shouted someone in the dark. "It'sallwrong,you'renot lookinglikeStella, you'renotfeelinglikeStella!"
"Aw, hell," Rogue muttered as she recognized the voice. Pietro appeared behind her and took a breath through his nose, smelling her hair.
"You certainly don't smell like Stella. What is that, sandalwood?" He was dressed in a black turtleneck and slacks, a black beret on his head, and took a step back before Rogue could slap him again.
"Don't be miffed, muffin, nobody likes a diva. Come on, sit down, it's time for the others to rehearse now. PLACES!" he bellowed, guiding her offstage and sitting her down in the front row, taking the seat next to her. She shivered in her chair as he leaned forward, fingers steepled.
The stage was entirely black.
"ACTION!" Pietro shouted. The lights came back up, and Jean and Scott were standing on stage, about ten feet apart.
"STELLA!!!!!" Scott roared, ripping at his hair.
"Ah have ahlwahys relaihd on the kaihndness of strangers!" Jean cooed, her accent a horrible parody.
"Is that what I sound like?" Rogue asked, all her anger crumbling in the face of humiliation.
"Melodious, isn't it, now that is acting."
"HEY STELLA!!!!!"
"Ah have ahlwahys relaihd on the kaihndness of strangers!"
"Oh my god…" Rogue whimpered. "This has gotta be hell."
She woke up gasping, like someone had just dumped a cup of ice water on her. Then she realized that was exactly what had happened.
"Sorry Rogue, you like, wouldn't wake up," Kitty said, shrinking away a little from the bed. Rogue sighed.
"Don'tworryboutitKitty."
"Wow… like, Quicksilver really gotcha good, didn't he?" Kitty winced, setting down the water glass and sitting on her bed. Rogue took a deep breath, held it for a second, and let it out.
"Actually," she said slowly. "I think that was the last of it." Kitty grinned, kicking her bare feet.
"Any like deep dark secrets Pietro's been keeping?" Kitty was rewarded with a half-cocked smile.
"Nah, I just touched him for a second. Sides, Kitty, it's Pietro, prince of shallow. Darkest secret I'd ever find out about him would be a bad hair day."
I heard that stripes! A voice echoed in Rogue's head.
"Dammit. He's still in there," she muttered.
It's like a damn morgue in here stripes! God, I'm bored…there's nothin' to read, Anne Rice, Poppy Z. Brite, Bram Stoker…Victorian erotica! Why Rogue I had no idea!
"Keep outta there!" Rogue said out loud. Kitty sighed and picked up a pair of earplugs off her nightstand.
"I'll like, leave you two alone."
Who needs dark secrets, stripes, you've got tons in here to spare!
"Pietro…" Rogue growled.
Oh relax, it's not like I can tell anybody! God, the real me would give up Smarties to know this stuff…
"I hate you, Maximoff," Rogue muttered, trying to go back to sleep. The last thing she heard when she dozed off was,
I cannot wait to see what you do in the shower!